It’s Fantastic When a Cat (Or anyone else for that Matter) Doesn’t have to Die And 23 Other Tips on fibalry.

Overture

I’m a forty year old man who fibs a lot. I fib more now than when I was four. Because there’s more to fib about. Finances, relationships, health, the usual.  But the real fibs can be your best friends. And I”m so sorry to say that it has served me so well. I write this only because it’s the only way I know to get the truth about fibs out there.  Otherwise, left to my own devices (like talking to be people in person, looking into their eyes, having those heart-to-hearts) I end up spouting bullshit about everything from God to the best mascara to stock picks to the case for Soap Opera Digest magazine.

I lie about everything under the sun, in person.  There are a lot of people I’m not on the same page with about a lot of things. THE PAGE. But words on a page do something for me–not written in stone but you stare at a sentence long enough and you…well, I fart. But once the gas is over, there are certain things I cannot die.  And here it is: I’ve done extremely well. I am approved of. I am loved. I am fucking awesome. Maybe not anyone else’s truth but not very many people at all. But I’m writing to you. The you who’s taken a bite of Lipstick, masturbated to woman (even though you’re gay) and cried when Suellen won custody of John Ross back in 1981.

Am I the biggest spewer of lies? Hardly. Mainly because I don’t have a large following and never will given my introverted nature.

Also the you who:

Did I nail it? No? Oh well, that won’t stop me from telling the truth.

Or maybe they are just lies, and I just want my lies to develop as many legs as all the other popular lies out there.